The man on the front door
by Felicia Martins
Summary: Today is May, 1st. The day of the return of happiness. The open-handed and good-hearted florist called Tino Vainamoinen will never forgot this day. Nor the one to whom he give the lily of the valley. The flower of Finland. The flower of a new hope. Nor the one who give him it. Hope. SuFin


Ohayo gozaimasu / Konnichiwa mina / Buongiorno a tutti / Holà / Salut tout le monde / Hello everybody!

Hi! I'm Felicia, i'm new on the English fandom, but i usually post fanfiction of Hetalia in French section~! Here is my first time! But, no worry, i've just the best betas of the world!

IMPORTANT NOTICE: I WONT BE THERE SINCE SUNDAY, AUGUST 5th TO SEPTEMBER 2st, I GO ON HOLIDAYS IN A PLACE WHERE I WONT HAVE INTERNET, AND EVEN IF I TRY TO FIND A CYBERCAFE IN THE AIM TO UPLOAD, THIS MAY BE DIFFICULT TO THE ANSWER OF TO THE REVIEWS THAT I'LL RECEIVE IN THIS PERIOD. SO, I'LL TAKE TIME TO REPLY WHEN I'LL COME BACK, AND ALSO POST SOME OF FICS WHICH I WORK AT THIS TIME. THIS DOES IN NO WAY MEAN THAT YOU HAVEN'T TO FOR LEAVE ME REVIEWS!

So...!

Disclaimer : not mine, Hidekazu Hiramuya's only!

Rating : K+

TO MY AWESOME BETA WINNY!

AND TO MY AWESOMENESS LOVE ELLY! THIS IS YOUR TRIBUTE!

THIS IS FOR YOU~!

**The man on the front door**

It was a sunny day in Finland, one of the first when the sky wasn't full of clouds and gray. Helsinki, as usual, was sleeping a light sleep, deep in the numbness which provoked each new day, at its beginning, when the cold touch of winter gives way to the freshness of spring but then never to the coolness of the following season. Days go just like that, one by one, one after the other and others by others. The blue veil of morning mist will dispel, dew will clear away sidewalks and garden fences, the wind will rises, make gates to squeak and softly open, as a foreign visitor wanted to enter. He would ruffle the grass and flowers, press the doorbell_, causing disrupting noises, _and push a badly fitting door, tilting slightly to crawl through. In small stores, in former shops, the bell will tinkle, and it will be as a new customer came.

Tino loved and hated this time both. Loved because of the –false- printing which somebody was indeed about to step inside of his stall. Hated because of the fact he knew it was wrong. Dummy impression, artificial imprint, faked feeling which wind would always leaved behind him, when it'd leave, leaving him alone.

Sleeping on his chair, head resting on the counter, he'd dream. That someone would like to break the silence, making jingles bell, break the solitude, ensuring that to open the door, break into his house only to break this daily. His morbid, unhealthy, moribund daily life. And because the sun wouldn't rise when the dream would be finished, he'd open his eyes, rise up from his hard chair and open blinds.

The sun won't enter in so far. Not more than customers. It was like he was doomed to remain behind the counter, without seeing anything or anyone, neither the sun nor happiness.

Nevertheless, Tino Vainamoinen was a brave and optimistic person. Well, he had to be. So, each day and every day, one by one, one after the other and others by others, he'd step out only a few seconds, the time to upturn the small sign over which was handwritten "closed" on the front face in "open", only on principle. Also to break out of the stifling and high-stressed atmosphere, he guessed. And to say to himself that it wasn't in vain, maybe. But without success, sure.

Then, he'd return in his small flower shop, and close the door behind him. To reassure, motivate himself, because he hadn't somebody else to make it instead of him, for him, he'd daydream. One day, he will have a house, and wouldn't have to spend his nights here anymore, he thought. One day, it will have people in here, people with who he will talk and laugh, people to exchange tips and people to share a laugh, he thought. One day, someone will break the silence, will break the solitude, and break his daily life. One day, he will have somebody on the way to climb stairs, about to go upstairs, nearly to his room, their room, he thought. One day, he will have people with him, and somebody who were there for him, and he no longer be alone, he and his place full of sun, full of happiness.

But, for right now, there was no money in the coffers, and the young Finnish was already inundated with debt, while since today it was just two years since he had opened. Why today? Just because this day would be only a little different than other, he thought. Today was May, 1 st. The day of the return of happiness. He never forgot the lily of the valley. Flower of Finland. He had carefully attached sprigs to make bouquets he could offer. Thus, those who receive it become those who give. And so on. Dispense around him the joy of loving.

It was the beginning of his commerce. He hoped not the ending. The opening but not the closing down.

Unfortunately, his situation was something grave, serious, almost critical, as one could call it. It had been a long time since anyone crossed the threshold of his store, a long time since anyone came to buy flowers, long time that he keep them and continue to reply for new ones only for himself, because he had no other alternative. There was no turnover, his suppliers were still confident, enough to let him stock up and pay by check, but how much longer? How long before they realize that his checks are made of cardboard? It was about one year and a half that clients had begun to desert his shop, preferring commercials of shopping center and small business in centre of the city than those are decentralized in small streets not highly frequented. As a result, he started to lose gradually the few regulars who came at the beginning, and then it was over.

How long before he became prohibited banking? His finances were going into the red, he hadn't even finished paying off the loan that allowed him to buy that teaches so picturesque, that had seemed so wonderful and perfect at the moment to set up his trade. He knew his bank monitors him, having already refused the young man several loans he had requested in the past to improve his display case and the front of his store by making some works.

How long before he lose control? Without money, he could do nothing. Not even advertises or anything to make known his shop and attract customers. And without customers, no money. It was a vicious circle. He didn't know how long he could still hold, but what was certain is that his mental and psychological health had begun to suffer. Grievous was the word.

He might do whatever he could, it was never paid. He was however trying his best, so why in the world all of his efforts were still unsuccessful, needless, useless? Sometimes, he felt like if he was the one to be useless and hopeless.

"Naughty, no-good boy! Can't you see that what you do never makes sense?" He often asked himself this question.

In such moments, in these moments of rage and weakness, his fist came down on the counter still obstinately and desperately empty.

Also, there was this sour and acrimonious smell, this stink of his own anxiety and sadness hung, floating in the air, which went round and round as he was going round and round, which like him, had something airless, and like him was stuffy. Silent. He was always silent. It seemed like evermore.

Anxiety absorbed oxygen from unique pieces; sadness clouded her eyes as surely as fire smoke, stagnant first under the ceiling, in his unconscious, before descending slowly, to make him aware of his presence, of the fact he was not happy. It announced the fire behind the door, as if it would never be opened, should be sealed with one who lived there, forever. It was poisoning his mind, crept into his brain to swell and take more and more importance, to almost overwhelm him.

Despite this his greatest fear was that this smell could contaminate the flowers and all the plants he took care of. That he might communicate them his anxiety, his sadness, and so, maybe infect them.

Then Tino applied to let them appear as little as possible. He kept them buried deep inside him, hidden the deeper he could, secret as long as he could.

And had a real smile. Restored order in his shelves of green plants, in his crates of potted plants, and jardinieres, planters and flower arrangements. Water the roses, the tulips, the peonies, and the primroses, the begonias, chrysanthemums and dahlias. Put compost and green manure to myosotis and daffodil, as orchids as pansies, and the hyacinth and carnation, as petunias and as camellias.

Once this is done, he loped heathers, bushes and shrubs, and put some order, once more. And check everything only to make him sure that each thing is in place, in its place, in the event of the arrival of a hypothetical client. Again and again.

This was more than a habitude, more nearly of an OCD. And a downward and infernal spiral. Again.

Otherwise, while he was working and working so hard, he wasn't thinking of his situation, wasn't making grow anxiety and sadness and chasing the smell by remaining busy. Thereby, he didn't felt to be ineffective, going round in circles.

He wouldn't stop for anything in the world.

He can't choose but stay, because he must stand, he had to stand. He had no other resource, and with a single degree of sales, no chance to quickly find a job in a company, or an area of professional retraining. His skills were limited, the management was not his strong point, for example, and he preferred the communication and exchange with people. And it wasn't as if Helsinki was full of positions to permanent contract. Moreover, it was simply impossible for Tino to just envisage the possibility to get a job less well regarded than the one he had now.

He wouldn't sell. That was what he will answer to bailiffs. If they attempt to be the firsts visitors he receives.

The firsts to open the door; the first to make jingles bell…

Tino fiercely jumped at the sound. He was preparing to reach the front door, but what he saw as he turned clearly immobilize him, frozen in place, blood icing in his veins and eyes fixed on the shape.

There was no hint of wind. Not even an air stream to blow or a breeze to stir the plants' leaves, as expected.

There was only a man. Someone was standing at the front door.

How long that no one had crossed this landing? Ah, yeah, a year and a half. Tino didn't know if he should rub eyes or pinch himself to ensure he was actually awakened.

The man was tall, in 1.80 he guessed, well-knit and upstanding. Short golden hair were falling on his forehead, forming spikes more or less regular length, while longer locks covering his ears. His skin looked pale, contrasting with his dark, deep blue eyes.

"Welcome!" the excited Finnish exclaimed gleefully and loudly. Rather soon, the gaze of the other man was turned towards him, not very outgoing.

Well, perhaps a little bit too much loudly. He was not smiling, his mouth tightly closed, sealed and forming a thin line on his face, as if it'd never opened. He had frowned and looked at him harshly, censorious, disapproving, as if he had committed misconduct, feeling increased by his black rectangular glasses, which hardened even more his features.

He seemed displeased, disturbed by his attitude. Not even a "hello".

Tino felt his enthusiasm fall back while his stomach was heaving. He was shared. In one hand, he had finally a client, but in other hand, he was…fishy.

Navy blue smoking, impeccably ironed white shirt with taut V-Neck tied by blue and white tie were his clothing. Although, something in his neat, well-groomed, trim outfit rings false, didn't suit him.

Maybe that's the tie knot, which seemed a little too tight, maybe that's the black suitcase he seemed to carry with some effort, his fist clenched around the handle, or maybe just the way his gaze was wandering around, on him and on the surroundings, putting him slightly uncomfortable.

Only maybe it was just ideas. It still that the man was different of the type of customers with Casual Outfits, relaxed, smiling, he had been accustomed to receiving. He looked more like a businessman.

Or perhaps…

No. Tino just refuse to think at this possibility. He only can't be a bailiff.

"Can...Can I help you?"

He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and tilts the head on the side, trying to smile, a tense, bent, quite nervous smile.

He had to be amiable, and do whatever he could to put him at ease, whatever he was. It was not only the first rule of merchants, "customer is always right", but also his first line of personal conduct.

" 'just look."

Despite his determination, resolution weakens and faltered at the same time as him, when he heard his voice. And can't help but shiver. It was rough, almost harsh than his gaze ; the remark was abrupt, tone biting, and intonation bearish. To give goosebumps.

The young Finnish gulped and nodded slowly. The newcomer walked around the little shop. Without letting go of his suitcase, he squats to watch some flowers arrangements ; without forgetting to glance at times to the store manager, he knelt down to reach and touch other flowers, seemed consider and examine it.

Tino felt cold sweats running down his back.

Time was stretching. The man was dragging, didn't seem to want to leave so early.

What was he doing? Why was he inspecting and looking at his plants like that? Why was he taking so long time to choose a poor flower? And the hell why was he looking over to looking to him?

He surely was paranoid. However, even if at the beginning he was very happy to have a client, he wasn't sure of this, right now. Henceforth, he wasn't happy anymore. He was anxious, afraid but surely not happy.

He took a deep breath and tried not to look at the other. But god, it was really difficult not to look to somebody who looks at you.

The visitor scrutinized a few shrubs that had the misfortune to be there, before to scan the room surrounding, and finally setting on Tino.

This one had a recoil when the other crosses in quick few steps the distance between them and approached the counter.

There was this strange accent in his voice. Tino thought that guy was such a stranger.

There was this very direct way of speaking, by making a straightforward request, while approaching as much as possible. And Tino didn't know what to think. So, he asked, cheeks reddened and voice slightly trembling with emotion:

- 'take care flowers." He answered without hesitation.

Tino started to regain his mien and his composure, whereas he was leading to the visitor in his wake until the small part of the store devoted to gardening.

There, he began to guide him, advising him about fertilizer, manure, planting, tools to be used, telling him how dangerous can be too much sun expose and how he must be careful at weather, an overflow of rain wasn't also something good for most plants. Simple advices to more detailed explanations, he wasn't longing to become ardent, like every time he spoke of his passion.

"… and this' how to do to cut the yellowed leaves, to give way to new burgeon, thus the buds develop better and young shoots grow faster!"

The young Finnish glanced one's eye over his new client, who for a while was silent, simply listening.

Thereof he finally took the floor:

"Ya take care of ya' plants very well…!"

His voice was still a little rough, but it didn't have anymore this aggressive note that Tino had attribute to him before. He realized that his tone was carrying something else: admiration.

He observed him. He was regarding him. He looked up to him, was looking towards him, was looking at him.

"Thanks…!"

The smallest had recovered his smile.

The other was looking down.

"Ya suit me…"

Tino missed to choke. He thought immediately that he had misheard.

"Sorry?"

His look was on him. Again. But he didn't answer. He wasn't someone would like to break the silence, he guessed. He wasn't whichever break the silence. So, it would be for him.

"Who are you? Are you a…a bailiff?"

Why did his look make him feel as if his question was inappropriate?

"Or-or maybe a mortgagee, a creditor?" He had to know. He must know.

So why was he feeling stupid by asking this question?

Perhaps because he was.

" 'm lookin' for someone…"

He was looking at him. But why so close?

" Searchin' for one'associate…"

He was stared at him. But why so direct?

"An' wanna ya."

This time, there was no possible error. No misheard. Not even misunderstanding.

Tino felt his legs tremble with an abrupt emotion. Then, he suddenly noticed that they went round and round without real purpose in the store since a very while, and it was not long before he crashed on the nearest chair, the one behind the counter, the habitual chair.

"Do you want to sit?" he casually tested, trying to save time. He didn't want to look not to care, but in an offhand way, relaxed.

There was no a seat. In vain Tino cast his eyes around. Nowhere. It was at this point that he remembered.

There was no seat because there was nobody to occupy it. There was nobody here to sit next to him, not even a customer, not even a partner. No one to share his sadness, his anxiety. At two, it would have been less onerous to carry it, lighter to wear it, less burdensome to endure, easier to bear up, cumbersome to stand.

There is no one to agree with it. It is impossible to someone to wittingly want to work with him, knowing his condition.

He had to explain him. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair.

"I don't think I'm the proper person for you, I mean, I'm not very convenient with the fact to work with other people…

The assurance in his tone surprised the young Finnish. This kind of insurance wasn't in the voice of ushers. It wasn't oriented to oneself, as arrogance, but turned towards another person, to convince someone else. Reassurance.

The greatest man was sitting on one corner of the office.

" 'need someone who's able to maintain 'store", he began.

Tino seemed to be unconcerned, but in fact highly concentrated.

"Ya care plants, he looked at him, ya've 'very nice store, he looked around, and th'most important, he looked him, ya're passionate.

- All this time, you were testing me… spying me…

- Ya know how to welcome client, to put him at ease, to give 'advices an' tips, to show respect an' not't'offend or interrupt someone when he's talkin' ", he enumerated.

"Offensive"

He clenched his fists in almost angry, because of the fact he didn't listen, he only duped and deceived him since the beginning.

"You're disembarking, and believe you're the one I'm waiting to change everything, didn't you? But you commit a mistake if you think I'm waiting for someone, I didn't need anyone! I can do without your help! And I could do without your pity!"

The one to open the door; the one to make jingles bell…

He could do it on his own.

The smell of smoke, fire smoke which formed a wall of silence that would have been stronger if they were two. After all, in pairs, they consumed doubly oxygen, doubly oxygen that the smoke could requisition, to grow, and grow further, and take them both, eventually trap him too. He didn't want someone else to go himself into this mess. He didn't want another victim. One was ample.

This is what dictated his severe sense of altruism, of caring for others. Not because he was selfish, not because he was pretty pretentious to claim that he thought he could go it alone; no, but just by thinking about others, precisely for others to be spared of the sorrow of carry this onus, to save him to this pain. He knew how hard it was. So, no need for anyone else in the same situation. He wouldn't let anyone to follow him, to his downfall.

"I'm in debt and you cannot change that. I'm on the brink every day but I must continue to open and work, as long as I still can, and you don't know what it is! I've to wait for customers as I wait for the closure, because this store, this is all I, and no matter what you do you will anyway never understand that!

- But ya like what ya do. So ya capable…

- I'm capable of nothing! I'm not the one you describe! Everything that I do inevitably fall through, disaster after disaster! In two years, my own business had sunk! Before you, no one had come for months and months!"

He suddenly realized what he had just said.

"Well…

- 'understan' that. Despite all sadness and anxiety, ya open, 'cause y'always have hope."

Each day and every day, one by one, one after the other and others by others.

The young Finnish glance to his opposite on astonishment. It was true that behind his apparent resignation and waiver, there was this hope, still hiding, the one which told him to do his best, to turn every day the small sign outside the shop into its "open" position, the one which whisper to him that one day, this would end up paying, his efforts would rewarded. The hope that one day someone notice.

He will stand for that. Unconsciously. He will wait for him. Unwittingly.

" 've known that. Since I got here, I'm looking for a partner, someone who is willing to help me get his to expand my business. I searched in the city center, but I still refused. They didn't dare tell me clearly, but I really felt I was disturbing. I searched in the smaller shops, and there it was obvious people were afraid of me. It was either hypocrisy or they slammed the door in my face. Other traders had heard about my bad reputation, and I ended up being considered a dropout, an outsider, someone disreputable."

It was the longest speech he had ever heard of him.

Tino understood why he was so determined to make a good impression, to look smart, and perhaps that explained why he was so silent and unobtrusive at first, not wanting to reveal his true identity for fear to be rejected.

He rose from the chair and took a step forward.

"This tie didn't suits you, I think. You'd be better without," he advanced, approaching his hand. He continued to look to him while undoing the disputed. The other didn't interfere, saying nothing until he put the piece of fabric on the counter next to him.

"Here, you seem much more laid back like that!" he exclaimed, reddening slightly.

"This's exactly what 'meant. Ya're 'first take'a step forward me. If 'kept hoping it was 'hope of one day finding someone like ya, wouldn't be afraid, but direct with me, as ya do. 'was looking for someone real in this business, wouldn't give up, whatever 'difficulties."

No one. He had persuaded himself that no one could understand, no one would consciously help him or knowingly be with him because nobody would know how was his life, wanted to live like him.

People are egoist. Himself didn't want anyone involved in this story, so why someone would willingly, deliberately, come to him? He had convinced himself that because he wished not help, he never would receive it. He was resigned to it.

Keep the door closed kept the young man from the outside. From the help. Despite the hope and the sign, if he continued to keep others away from him by not believing sincerely on their return, he would not come. This non-selfish one, this foreign visitor, new client, this stranger he expected without really believing it.

So why this hope was still there? Someone will on his own, voluntarily, willfully opens the door.

"So 'am always ready to help ya. 'cause 'know what it's doing, not having someone at his side. As ya, 'need someone an' as ya, 'need help too."

He wasn't the only. They were at least two in his case, in this situation. Loneliness.

Alones.

But an ensemble of two single, sole, lonesome's persons was sufficient for them not to be alone anymore.

can do more than if they were each of his side.

He had wanted to believe strong enough to continue alone. However, without one, he couldn't do it.

Without clients, he couldn't sell and then run his business. And obviously, without someone to help, he couldn't probably find customers, attract people. The world attracted the world; after all, that's what he had always believed. Alone, it would not produce anything.

Well, if he agreed to be helped, he could help too.

Two together, to drive out the smoke, anxiety, sadness, they will comfort, reassure each other.

Complementary.

Together, to be more than just individuals.

"So, ya' answer?"

The serious tone of the other distracted him from his thoughts.

"You really think…" he responded at the grave stare.

" 'm sure ya able 'come with me 'cause ya love ya' job, an' that's why ya fit for it."

He was looking forward to him. Someone finally had noticed him.

The one to open the door ; the one to make jingles bell…

He had come. To him.

Tino smiled.

"Do you want some?"

He was reaching out toward something on the counter. Like every year, resting bouquets of lilies.

Small white pure bells tolled like a pleasant ringing, providing music in the air similar to what is meant when you invite someone home, and opened the door, all smiling.

The other nodded, almost smiling.

Then the sun rushes inside, at the same time as him, and this is as if you knew him forever.

He took the bouquet that the young Finn proffered.

"Beautiful"

Tino blushed.

"Ya're as them. Ya're smile dispense around the joy of loving as lily of the valley."

Because it's how the world turned. If people gave then to receive, there would be no more selfish, and no one would be alone.

"It's my favorite flower. Cause no one should be alone." Nobody can forever.

But from now on, he had someone to break the silence by making jingles bell, to break the solitude by ensuring the door will open, to break this daily by being there, for him, simply.

And he soon has a house, and didn't have to spend his nights in his store anymore. It soon have people in here, people with who he talk and laugh, people to exchange tips and people to share a laugh.

Cause he has somebody on the way to climb stairs, someone about to go upstairs, one person nearly to his room, their room, now. He has people with him, and this particular one to make this place full of sun, to make him full of happiness.

The first one. The man of the front door.

Basically, the young Finnish had always believed. He had always known.

There was always someone, somewhere in the world, or elsewhere, to help you, to work with you, to live with you, to be with you and dedicate everything he did to only you. Whatever it was. This one does everything for you. Be everything for you. In a sense, believe in this person, believe that he is there, make him exist here, and get close to him. The whole is to believe, to do his best and everything to meet the other.

One day…

Perhaps it will be on May 1st, the day of revival…

* * *

So, REVIEWS my friends~?

Sayonara mina / Das vidania / Arrivederci a tutti / Salut les gens / Bye people!


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